


A Birthday To Remember

by Telaryn



Series: The Hero and The Bad Boy [20]
Category: Leverage, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Banter, Blow Jobs, Flirting, Multi, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sparring, Teasing, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 15:03:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telaryn/pseuds/Telaryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The actual day might be past, but Clint's birthday presents are still...coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Birthday To Remember

**Author's Note:**

> I should have known better. I REALLY should have known better. This was supposed to be Quinn talking to Clint about how he'd run into the mysterious SHIELD agent again that they'd met in Tennessee, and starting to ratchet up the whole 'Coulson's Alive' plot thread.
> 
> ...Natasha and Quinn apparently had other ideas. *facepalm*

“You are unbelievable, you know that?”

If looks could have actually killed, Clint knew from Quinn’s glare as he stalked off the practice mat that he would have been a smoking pile of ash. “She asked!” he exclaimed, spreading his hands helplessly and adopting his best, most innocently aggrieved expression.

“She” looked up, snorting softly. “I asked you what you wanted for your birthday!” Natasha said, her tone challenging him to disagree.

“Apparently ‘kill my boyfriend’ was pretty high on your list this year, huh?” Quinn complained breathlessly. Grabbing his water bottle, he emptied half the contents in a single long swallow. Natasha had already plucked a towel from her bag, and was using it to blot the sweat from her pale skin.

“Hey!” Clint protested. “You’re the one that was saying just last week that Happy had been too busy to train with you! I figured Nat would be the best one to give you what you were looking for.”

Laughing weakly, Quinn collapsed on the bench next to Clint. “And again with the idea of an early grave.”

“He telegraphs his jabs with his off-hand,” Natasha said as she walked over to join them. Catching Quinn’s gaze, she pointed to her own eyes. “It’s a shift here – normally you keep your eyes steady, but it’s like you don’t trust your accuracy with your left hand.” Her eyes ticked down before looking at Clint again. “He’s also favoring the foot.”

Sobering, Clint nodded his agreement. “I saw that. Any suggestions?” Quinn had shattered several of the bones in his foot months earlier in a fight with agents working for Aldrich Killian. They hadn’t known going in that any of Killian’s people – ordinary humans that had been treated with the Extremis virus – would be on site, or Clint kept telling himself he would have set things up differently.

Natasha sighed. “Foot injuries are difficult. Time and patience are still the best cures.” A sly smile curved her lips and Clint saw a mischievous twinkle spark in her storm-colored eyes. “Lots of long, slow, gentle massaging couldn’t hurt.”

Clint groaned, rolling his eyes. Quinn laughed, hooking an arm around Natasha’s waist and pulling her in close to his side. “You see? I knew Tash always liked me best.”

“I just know how well Barton takes care of his things,” she retorted, ruffling his hair affectionately. Clint dimly realized he should have been offended by the aspersions being cast on his character, but he’d been struck momentarily dumb by the sight of his partner and his lover twined around each other.

 _Damn…_ The two of them were so much a part of his life and his heart, that he rarely got a chance to appreciate just how incredibly good looking they both were.

“Stop that,” Natasha gently chided a moment later – having easily figured out the direction his thoughts were leaning. Clint immediately raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, shaking his head.

“Nothing to stop. Not. Doing. Anything. Just sitting here, being human in the face of such ungodly physical perfection.” It wasn’t as if the thought had _never_ crossed his mind, but Clint was too grateful for what he had with both of them to want to risk fouling it up.

“So,” Quinn said, releasing Natasha and attempting in his way to steer the conversation into safer waters, “our boy have any shortcomings you’d care to share? Make me feel a bit better about my ‘performance’ this morning?” His fingers sketched air quotes around the word.

 _Be nice,_ Clint thought, favoring Natasha with his most desperately pleading expression. _Make me look good._ He was screwed though, and he knew it. Nat was suddenly in a teasing mood, and she would have no problem roasting his balls for Quinn’s amusement.

“Well,” she began; arms crossed over her chest as she regarded him thoughtfully, “in close his footwork sucks.” Playing up the hit, Clint clapped a hand to his chest – but he really couldn’t argue with her on that score. “He relies too much on his upper body strength, which is why you’ll never see him going toe to toe with Cap or Thor.”

“Also because he’s not stupid,” Clint grumbled, feeling the wind abruptly leave his sails as he realized she was only getting started. Natasha biffed him in the back of the head and he fell silent – his cheeks already starting to burn with embarrassment.

“He’s all instinct in the field.” She was grinning now, as was Quinn, which Clint thought was _totally_ unfair under the circumstances. “No discipline, no appreciation for proper strategy…”

Clint shivered as she moved into his personal space, his body reacting as it always did – as he suspected most peoples did – when somebody like Natasha Romanoff got too close. “And then, of course, there’s Budapest…”

 _Something’s changed…_ Nat’s tone was still light and teasing, but one of the reasons they worked so perfectly together was that he could always sense when she was about to shift gears.

“He won’t tell me about Budapest,” Quinn said. Clint tried not to flinch too violently at the sound of the ex-mercenary’s voice, not wanting to betray how completely distracted he’d become by Natasha’s mere presence…now inches away…

Laughing softly, she looked over her shoulder at Quinn. “That’s because he refuses to believe my version of what happened.”

“You were half-dead from blood loss!” Clint protested. “Your version isn’t…” His voice trailed off as she rested her hands lightly on his shoulders, holding his gaze as she moved forward; straddling his thighs. “…um…isn’t credible,” he forced himself to finish. “Uh, Nat?”

Her expression as she looked down at him had changed again – a look he’d only seen turned in his direction a few times over the course of their partnership. “Is something wrong?” she asked, idly tracing the line of his brow with a fingertip. “You look flushed.”

Now it was his turn to laugh, but it was as weak as any sound he’d ever made. “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “I’m not even sure how we ended up here.” He paused. “Now that you mention it, I’m not actually sure where _here_ is.”

Quinn was suddenly a warm, steady presence at his back, palms skimming the length of Clint’s arms, drawing him backwards into an embrace. “Here,” he murmured, his breath hot against Clint’s skin, “is the world where you aren’t the only one that knows to talk to Natasha about what you’d like for your birthday.”

On some level Clint understood that the words he was hearing were English, but a moment later Quinn’s teeth were in his flesh and Nat’s mouth was on his – stealing his breath and a good portion of his remaining wit. Growling low in his throat, Clint dug his fingers into the meat of Natasha’s thighs, pulling her down the rest of the way into his lap. She made a small, pleased sound as he rocked the half-hard bulge of his erection against her. “Oh, I have missed that,” she purred, breaking off their kiss and grinding down even more firmly against him.

“Been right here,” he grinned, reaching up to push her hair back off her face. They hadn’t slept together often, but each time had been extremely memorable. “How do you want to do this?”

“First thing,” Quinn said, fingers curling around the hem of Clint’s t-shirt, “you are wearing way too many clothes.” Clint obligingly raised his arms, allowing Quinn the room to strip off the offending garment, but even before Quinn had finished, Natasha had her fingers curled around the waistband of his sweats and was beginning to tug them down.

Twisting around so that he could see Quinn, Clint hooked a hand behind the other man’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss. It was deep, slow, and passionate, and Clint’s head was well and truly spinning by the time they were done. “You are a crazy person, you know that right?” he asked – searching his lover’s expression for any hint that Quinn wasn’t going to be 100% on board with this (whatever this turned out to be).

There was nothing facing him but heat, need, and enough love to bring tears to his eyes with the force of it. “That may well be,” he said, his voice thick and dark with the promise of things Clint knew people would sell countries to experience, “but I’m still going to have you naked and we’re still going to fuck you brainless.”

Clint had his snarky comeback all ready to go, but at just that moment Nat managed to get her hand on him. The jolt of endorphins as she ran the heel of her palm down the length of his cock wiped out any remaining vestiges of control he might have been able to lay claim to.

The next several minutes passed in a blur of sensation as the two of them pulled him down on the practice mat and then proceeded to strip him with an almost ruthless efficiency. Clint tried to give as good as he was getting, even managing to get Natasha’s sweats halfway down her thighs before Quinn grabbed his wrists and pinned his arms behind his back. Clint went immediately still, except for a faint trembling all over his body.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me,” Quinn said – his voice a half-teasing, half-threatening purr in Clint’s ear. “I said _we_ would be fucking _you_.”

“Understood,” Clint replied, his own voice a strangled gasp. “I’m…I’m sorry.” Natasha reached for him a moment later, wrapping her hand around the base of his cock and squeezing down. Equilibrium somewhat restored, Clint nodded his thanks. _Wouldn’t want to disrespect such a fine gift by coming too soon,_ he thought, struggling to get his bearings.

When she was sure he had himself at least reasonably under control, Natasha rocked to her feet, bending and slipping her pants the rest of the way off. Clint whimpered low in his throat at the sight, his body suddenly intent on reminding him that it had been far too long since he’d gotten to see Natasha in all her staggering physical perfection.

“I hear that.” Quinn whistled appreciatively. Natasha glanced up at them and grinned.

A stray thought drifted idly through Clint’s mind. “Uh, Nat?” She straightened, and her expression clearly invited him to continue. “Monte Carlo?” He smirked, feeling Quinn tense reflexively behind him.

“I don’t know,” Natasha said, pretending to consider his request. “I did promise him.”

Clint tried his best pleading look again. “Oh come on. He’s going to look so good with you holding him down and me sucking his cock. You can’t say no…besides, it’s supposed to be my birthday present, right?”

Given the complicated history of their relationship, Clint had historically approached the idea of physical confrontations with the ex-mercenary cautiously. With Natasha backing him up though, Quinn didn’t stand a chance. He released Clint and scrabbled backwards, but the two of them were on him before he could get to his feet. It was the work of less than two minutes between the two of them to get the rest of Quinn’s clothes off and wrestle him onto his back. Natasha pinned his wrists, and Clint straddled his thighs.

“You cheated,” Quinn accused him as their eyes met. Clint’s smile widened and he licked his lips as his eyes roamed appreciatively over his lover’s naked body.

“Yeah,” he said, leaning down and tonguing the slit in the head of Quinn’s cock, making a show of rolling the bead of clear pre-come quivering at the tip into his mouth. Savoring the taste as it ghosted across his palette, he took his time working on the head, before sucking the entire length of him into his mouth. Quinn cried out at the contact, arching against Natasha’s grip and Clint’s weight.

“Okay, I definitely see your point,” Natasha said breathlessly between Clint’s third and fourth stroke. “This is…very nice.” Clint looked up at her as he continued to suck, and saw that her storm-colored eyes were almost all pupil. “Is his tongue as talented as yours?”

Quinn’s hips were already flexing, shallow thrusting motions that told Clint he wasn’t going to last long. He still managed to arch himself back until he could catch Natasha’s attention. “You…could always…come closer and find out,” he managed to gasp.

The afternoon was already well on its way to exceeding every fantasy Clint had ever had – and when Natasha let go her grip on Quinn’s wrists to shift herself forward, when Quinn wrapped his hands around her thighs and his tongue flicked out to tease at her clit, he lost what little control he still had – nearly impaling himself. Quinn moaned, arching again as the head of his cock slipped into Clint’s throat; the added pressure sending him over the edge. Clint closed his eyes, swallowing as fast as he could as thick come poured down his throat – nearly choking him.

As soon as he felt steady enough to release Quinn and push himself up and back on his heels, the ex-mercenary rolled smoothly onto his stomach, spilling Natasha backwards onto the mat as he continued licking and sucking her. When his partner’s legs went up and wrapped around him, pulling him in even closer, Clint shivered and forced himself to his feet.

 _One of you two scouts had better have remembered the condoms,_ he thought, now achingly hard as he stumbled over to search Quinn’s bag. _That’s all I’m saying._ As far as he was concerned, they were just getting started.


End file.
